


Rekindling the flame

by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Series: Slowly loving you [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23746114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Summary: Enjolras is stuck in his room, lying in bed all day, unresponsive.Grantaire decides to pay him a visit.
Relationships: Enjolras & Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: Slowly loving you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1177319
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Rekindling the flame

It had been more than a couple of days and the Musaine was slowly getting used to not having their leader around. Instead Courfeyrac took over. At first Marius tried to take over the mantle but it was clear that he was not meant to be the leader. Embarrassed, Marius sat down next to his sympathetic girlfriend who whispered “I thought you were great.”  
Everything wasn’t fine and perfect, but at least they were getting used to it.

Then Grantaire appeared for the first time in many days. Everyone was surprised but, with his hood up, it was clear he didn’t want to gain much attention. He ordered a beer like he usually does and sat down as if nothing happened- that there was no fight.  
“Alright,” Courfeyrac began, “Today I would like…”  
His voice was drowned out by Grantaire’s drinking. Marius and Jehan convinced him to come, granted it did take him a few days after asking him to actually come over, but that was because he believed Enjolras needed time with his friends without Grantaire.

It took him a lot of drinks but he was finally ready to face the blond man. He stood up but when he did he realised he didn’t know where he was planning to go. He couldn’t see him.  
“Are… you okay?” Courfeyrac touched his arm. “Did you drink too much again?” He tried to joke.  
“Where’s Enj?” He hissed. Realising he came off in the wrong way he quickly apologised.  
“It’s alright…” Courfeyrac spoke. He was looking at the floor, as if he was guilty of something. “Enjolras… We haven’t heard from him.”  
Grantaire fell to his chair.  
“He’s fine! Combeferre is taking care of him- he has the spare key after all. It’s just that,” He scratched his head, “I don’t think he is ready to even talk to anyone. Combeferre has tried, but he just won’t speak.”  
Grantaire tapped the table, nervous and worried, with his bottle. He imagined braking it in pure anger, wanting to charge up to Enjolras and ask what the hell was wrong with him, and that Grantaire did nothing to make him mad, and when he shouted at him, it really hurt; his words were so sharp that it still pained him to this day. He felt guttered, that his heart had been ripped out of his chest.  
Instead, Grantaire just nodded in response. “Okay.” He then quickly smiled, “Sorry Courf, carry on the meeting.”  
“Oh, okay. You sure?”  
“Yeah.” He carried on smiling. He could feel everything in his face, hyperaware. His smile was artificial but Courferyrac seemed to have bought it.

When the meeting was over the Les Amis were chatting loudly. Among them was Combeferre. He was chatting to Cosette, welcoming her into the group officially. She held Marius’ and was very animated to talk about politics- her father didn’t let her know such ‘boyish’ things. Excitedly, she asked “Do you have a group chat I can join? I can’t wait! I feel like I’m being accepted into a cult- but a good one.”  
Combeferre laughed, “That’s a weird way of putting it, but yeah we have one. Let me get my phone and…”  
“What’s wrong?” Marius asked.  
Sure enough Combeferre had his phone on hand, but he kept searching his pocket. “Shit, what?” He continued patting his pocket.  
“Did you lose something?” Cosette asked, inspecting the floor around him in case he dropped something.  
“Yeah…” Combeferre pulled his pockets inside out like a comical character. His eyes widened in realisation. “Granatire, that little…” He gritted through his teeth. He remembered during the meeting, Grantaire sat by his side and asked for clarity on what happened and why Enjolras was mad at him. When Combeferre opened up, he thanked him and they hugged. He thought that was the end of their conversation. “Grantaire stole it.”  
“He stole what?” Marius asked, confused.  
“The spare key.” He stormed out of the room.

By the time Combeferre had realised what Grantaire had done, he had already arrived at Enjolras’ home. He was furious. All those hurtful words? Turned out, it wasn’t actually his fault. It was completely Enjolras’ and his mother’s problems. So why the hell did he yell at him?  
Breathing heavily, he entered the room. From what he heard from his friends, he knew where he needed to go. Grantaire had visited Enjolras’ home twice before so he was well aware which room he had to enter- the room he was told to never enter.

He creaked the door open and marched to the bed. The window above hardly gave out any light so it was very dark in the room. Seeing Enjolras just lie, completely still made him calm. Not in the sense of he felt security, but in the sense of dread. “Enjolras?” He softly called out.  
He didn’t answer.  
Grantaire walked around the bed to crouch down in front of him. His eyes were open. He was blinking every now and then. Sometimes a tear would fall down. His eyes were tired despite being in bed all this time.  
“Enjolras, it’s me.” Grantaire gave a short smile, “Grantaire.”  
Enjolras still didn’t reply. Nor did his pupils move to show the sign that he could recognise who was in front of him. It looked like he was perceiving something behind Grantaire- as if he didn’t exist. 

Sighing, he sat on the bed, next to Enjolras. Seemingly relaxed, he spoke, “believe it or not, I wasn’t genetically born with this damned personality. I know. In fact, it was constructed. I know that sometimes I make no sense when I’m around you- but that’s just me trying to get your attention. I’m like an annoying…” He tried to come up with an insult, “Toddler nagging you all the time. I do that with everyone, actually. I can’t help it.” He began to laugh lowly, “I remember when I was a child my parents wouldn’t pay attention to me. I was invisible to them. I would show them a pretty little sketch of me and my family, and they wouldn’t even touch it. Sometimes I was left in a room all by myself for the entire twenty four hours. They didn’t chain me, but they might as well have.” He took a deep breath. “One day, I thought maybe if strangers noticed me, they would notice too. So, I got scissors and created holes in my clothes.” Grantaire smiled, as if he was reminiscing the event and laughing at the illogical behaviour of his younger self, “One day I practically wore a crop top. That finally made my parents notice me. They opened their dry lips and spoke to me in a hoarse voice- I’ll never forget it. Do you know why? Because I loved it. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted to be noticed more. So, I picked up scissors again. This time, I didn’t cut fabric… It was skin. I was that desperate.” He laughed, trying to pass it as a joke.  
Grantaire heard a slight movement but pretended he didn’t notice. He continued, “The cuts weren’t deep. Just enough to bleed. And you know what happened next? I was yelled at. They were furious. They complained about their status and honour; not me. And while they were shouting I realised something- I was never going to make them look at me the way they want me to. No matter how smart I try to become, no matter how creative I become, I was just going to be a shadow to them. A nobody.”  
Grantaire looked out of the window. The sky was pale and the road was empty apart from one car. A familiar car. Combeferre’s car. Grantaire’s heartbeats became louder.

“...So?”  
Grantaire almost jolted. It was Enjolras. Enjolras spoke. He still wasn’t facing him, but he was listening, comprehending.  
“Well,” Grantaire spoke once more, witnessing a furious Combeferre exit out of his car, spotting him in the window, marching to the front door, “I learnt that I should probably leave. Get out as soon as I reach eighteen. Find a home, make my own family through friends. I didn’t even want to rub my success to my family.” The front door opened, but Enjolras didn’t seem to register the noise.  
“Because you’re so successful.” Enjolras spoke very quietly.  
Grantaire gasped loudly, trying to be playful, but terrified of the volcano that was Combeferre, “Yes I am successful!”  
Combeferre walked into the room, past the opened door. He stared at Grantaire, fire breathing in his eyes. At this point Grantaire was too afraid to break eye contact. Instead, he placed his hand on Enjolras’ and carried on speaking softly, “I learnt that in life not everything will be resolved the way you want. In the end, there’ll be many loose ends. And that’s how things are. Sometimes you just have to let things go. For me, my parents don’t know anything about me. I could be dead for all they know. To be fair, they could’ve forgotten my existence altogether- that would be feasible.”

On the other side of the room, Combeferre raised his arms, mouthing what he was thinking.  
Grantaire lifted his hand away from Enjolras’ and stood up. He walked over to Combeferre who held his hand out, breathing heavily. He handed his spare key over. Combeferre grabbed his arm firmly, about to lead him out the room.  
“I don’t need a lesson from you, R.” Enjolras whispered, but since the two weren’t making much noise, they could hear his voice.  
Combeferre tightened his grip in surprise on Grantaire which made him instinctively slap his hand to make him loosen his grip.  
Instead of dragging Grantaire, Combeferre pushed him towards the bed, where Enjolras was laying. Combeferre mimed ‘one time’ and was still visibly furious at him for stealing. Quietly, he walked out of the room.

Awkwardly, Grantaire sat back at the same spot. He dared to look down at Enjolras. He was still looking at the wall. He replayed what Enjolras said to him. They had fought before- that’s nothing new. But… He called him ‘R’... Enjolras called him ‘R’... He began to blush and a smile slowly emerged.

“I’m sorry.” Enjolras tiredly whispered, breaking Grantaire from his train of thought, “I’m so sorry for yelling at you.”  
“You yelled at me?” Grantaire tried to joke. “I didn’t notice.”

From that moment the two spoke for hours. Obviously their conversation was heavily asymmetrical as Grantaire spoke for the most amount of time; but Enjolras joined in at times. He didn’t laugh or even smile, but it was a start.

When Combeferre returned back to Enjolras’ house in the morning, he found Grantaire sleeping comfortably next to Enjolras, holding his hand. Finding the situation to be funny, Combeferre laughed under his breath.


End file.
